The Seed of Corruption
by Lady Demosthenes
Summary: When Milliardo is offered the chance to run for President of Mars, he believes that his life finally has meaning. However, with corruption abound, the Gundam Pilots come to Mars as well, in order to root out a mysterious enemy.


Author's Note: My goodness, I don't know why I'm so nervous about writing this.  The plot has been sitting in the back of my head forever, but I've finally decided to put it into words.  With thirteen fanfics already running, you would think I was more confident about putting a new idea on the table.  I don't think this has been done before, that is, I hope not.  There's going to be some angst as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Chapter One: The Shattered Soul 

_It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. _

_Theodore Roosevelt_

            Outer space was so cold.  It was dark and Cold, like the remnants of his heart, a heart that did not have the merits to justify its existence.  Milliardo pressed his palm to the window of the shuttle, allowing the cool glass to soothe the pain pulsating through his body.  It was a pain that he knew he would feel; it was a pain he would not fight because he deserved it.  He had not been worthy of anyone's loyalty; he had not even asked for it.  It was something that had been given to him on a silver platter; something he took for granted.  He clenched his fists wondering why he was still alive.  "So many chances," he muttered, "I could have died in the battle against Heero in Antarctica; I could have died when Treize set me up against rebel forces; I could have died using Wing Zero, in the final battle for earth, or fighting against Dekim Barton's men."  But he hadn't died; not physically, at least.  Every battle destroyed a bit of his soul, leaving restlessness, emptiness.  

It was only a matter of weeks before Noin had realized that he wasn't the man she idolized.  That the man she knew was one long dead, and lived only in her fancies.  And when the realization swept over her, she had left without a word.  Last that he had heard she had married another man, one that lived up to her expectations.  It stung to know that there was no one in the world that would miss him if his shuttle suddenly blew up.  It stung to know that everyone was busy making something out of his or her life, while he was fading away slowly.  "Why is it that death does not claim me?" he wondered, "I could end it all now, so very quickly.  I could purge the world of the poison that I am."  

He glided slowly to the cockpit of the shuttle glancing at the autopilot.  "Only two hours away from Mars," he sighed.  Relena had done wonders upon wonders on the red planet.  There was a primitive colony already set up, and colonists were pouring into the area, as it was thought to be a land of opportunity.  The economy was still in its infancy, but he had faith that with time and effort, the colony would become quite prosperous.  In fact, if he recalled correctly, the colonists were preparing to elect a president.  He chuckled, "Relena would do well in that position."  Then he recalled why he had come to the cockpit in the first place.  He could easily steer his shuttle off course, become lost in space.  He could induce upon himself a cold and lonely death.  "It suits me well," Milliardo thought, "I'm not one to be obsessive about dying a glorious death in battle."  But as he mulled about these matters, a communication line popped up on the shuttle screen.

"Hello dear brother," Relena's voice chimed, her face smiling on the small screen.

Milliardo wiped the sullen look on his face and replaced it with one of happiness, "Why, hello.  I'm rather close to that wonderful red planet of yours."

"It's not mine," Relena stated, straightening out her suit, "Anyway, they've asked me to run for President of Mars."  

Milliardo smiled; she was so open, so blunt.  But he wondered whether she had called to proclaim this honor or whether she needed his help.  If it were the former, then he could continue his planning of disappearing into outer space, if the latter, then his life would have meaning for a bit longer.  "That's wonderful," he stated in his passive manner.

"But I can't do it.  There's too many things I have to do as a Darlian.  I was thinking that…" she paused for a moment, weighing the words in her mind.  Her eyes were looking to the side, while she unconsciously bit her lip.  She stood deep in thought for a few minutes and then looked back at Milliardo once more, "Well, I was thinking perhaps… since you haven't been up to anything, perhaps you should run for the office."

Milliardo tried hard not to stare from pure shock.  He opened his mouth slightly; ready to pour out a thousand reasons why what she stated was insane.  _But Relena_, he wanted to say, _I can't.  I'm loathed for being a former Oz soldier… I abandoned my family's pacifist beliefs…I represented earth and tried to blow it up.  I'm a walking contradiction.  I can't do this, Relena.  I have no one to support me right now.  _But instead, all that came out of his mouth was, "Alright."

"Good, good," Relena replied, nodding her head, "I was afraid that you would be too upset over everything that has happened lately."

"No.  I'm fine.  Everything that has occurred is a result of my mishaps, and was inevitable," Milliardo answered somewhat coldly, "I will see you on Mars, then?"

"See you then," Relena said as the communication screen shut off.

Milliardo stared out the front window for a few minutes and then plopped on to the pilot's seat.  He knew how to be a leader, but he didn't know how to compete to become one.  "I hear politicians are dirty," he thought to himself staring at his own hands, "If that is the case, then these blood-stained hands of mine will help me get the job done."  He leaned his tired head against the cushion of the chair, closing his eyes.  And for the first time in weeks, a smile graced his lips.

*      *      *

            Duo packed his last article of clothing into the black leather suitcase.  He stood up and let a small yawn escape while stretching his arms out.  "Mars," he whispered in wonder; he had never in his life imagined being able to feel the soil of the red planet under his feet.  But since Quatre had called him up and informed him that there were suspicious activities going on at the new colony there, things had changed completely.  He wondered whether the other Gundam pilots would be there as well; whether it would be like old times where they counted on each other like brothers.  He swung the suitcase up from the bed to his side.  "Well, I wonder what the future holds for me," he thought.  But deep inside him, there was something gnawing at his stomach: the thought of having to face an enemy without his gundam at his side.  "I'm sure it's nothing," he sighed, "Quatre is just… overreacting."  He glanced around at the apartment room one last time, just in case the situation inhibited him from returning.  "Well, I'm off for another adventure," with those words, he stepped out the door.

            -Sighs-  Well, there it is.  Please review and tell me what you think.  If you'd like to send any private comments, or if you'd like me to email you if I update, email me at ladydemosthenes9@yahoo.com.


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